Break
by galsbeingpals
Summary: Spring break. Dana Scully. Stella Gibson. Who knew shipping Gillian Andersons with each other in AUs would be the reason I came back to fanfiction..?


Note: I'm back! OUAT became too much to cope with, but I recently discovered that people write fic about Stella Gibson and Dana Scully, and I WANT IN. So here we are. Apologies if my writing's a bit rusty – it's been a while...

* * *

Spring break. Spring break, the time for drinking, sunshine, wet t-shirt contests, letting your hair down... Dana Scully shuddered to think. Not because those ideas didn't appeal to her. They did. She shuddered because she was doing none of them. Instead, she was alone in her dorm room, practically alone in her dorm, studying for her exams because she wanted to get into med school. She groaned at the notes and textbooks in front of her. Did she really need to be here?

The trouble was, she didn't really know anything else. This was the fourth year she'd stayed, alone, while everyone she knew spent their (or their parents') hard earned money on vacations they'd remember for the rest of their lives. Actually, considering the levels of inebriation judging by the various pictures she saw on Facebook, maybe they wouldn't remember, but they'd remember that they went, which was the main thing.

Dana would remember particle structures. She drummed her fingers on the desk, swerving her attention away from her laptop and her jealousy, and back to her notes.

"I could be there if I wanted to be," she told herself firmly. "But I don't. I don't want to be. I want to be here, I want to go to medical school."

Even as she said it, the words felt alien. They belonged to her father, even her mother. They didn't belong to her. And yet, she had no others, no other plans or options or ideas.

Her red hair, escaping its functional ponytail, tumbled into her line of vision. She pushed it back and readjusted her glasses.

She made it to the end of the chapter, then granted herself a reprieve. She could go for a walk, at least, while it was still sunny. Not as warm as Florida, maybe, but not bad.

She put on a jacket, grabbed her phone, keys, and credit card, and left the room. The dorms were hauntingly deserted; the whole of campus was like a ghost town. Even the few staff who remained were surly and reluctant, resenting people like her for forcing them to work while everybody else took a much-needed vacation. Dana walked outside feeling uncomfortable about her very existence. She told herself not to be so silly. Even telling herself that felt silly. She rolled her eyes, and kept walking.

There was a river, nearby, so she walked along that. It was late, 9pm. She hadn't eaten, she realised, so she took a path leading into town. At this hour, at this time of year, her choices were limited – Taco Bell or Wendy's. She'd had a taco yesterday.

Wendy's wasn't busy; she ordered a burger and fries and wished the soda machines, with all their ludicrous options, could dispense beer. Maybe she could buy beer. And drink it alone in her room. Watching Netflix. Eating ice cream. Living it fucking up.

"I should have gone to Florida," she told no one in particular.

"I'm not in Florida," no one in particular responded, causing Dana to jump what felt like several feet in the air.

Stella had been watching the girl, woman she should say, over her chocolate frosty and fries. She'd walked in, moping, had given the soda machine a violent glare, and was now looking frantically around the room to determine who had spoken, a delightful blush rising to her cheeks. Stella waved, smiling a coquettish smile.

Dana collected her tray and considered ignoring the devastating blonde sitting in a booth in the corner of the restaurant. The trouble was, she was not a person it was at all easy to ignore. And Dana was lonely. And interested.

It beat solitary Netflix and Chill, anyway.

Dana sat at the booth, presenting her most confident self, which was pretty damn badass.

"Stella Gibson," Stella said, wiping her hand on a napkin and holding it out.

Dana wondered if she was supposed to shake it or kiss it. Stella was British, and upper class British at that. From the movies, lady in a ballgown British, with hair like a Disney princess and eyes like blueish steel.

"Dana Scully," Dana said, opting to shake.

Stella returned to her meal, watching Dana unwrap the burger.

"Why should you be in Florida?" Stella asked.

Dana paused in her meticulous unfolding of the wrapper and looked up, ever polite.

"Everyone I know is there. It's Spring break."

"I'm aware of the time of year. But now you know me, so that's half your problem solved."

"What makes you so sure that you're a solution?"

Stella chuckled. "What makes you question the fact?"

Dana narrowed her eyes. "Are you a student?"

"Yes."

"At the university?"

"No, of the Kama Sutra."

She said it so seriously, Dana wasn't entirely sure that she was joking.

"Yes, at the university. Don't look so flustered."

"I'm not flustered."

"Whatever you say, darling. Are you a student?"

"Yes, pre-med."

"Ah, so we share an interest in the human body. Although I like mine alive when I examine them, and they only let you students work on dead ones."

"Stop it, I'm trying to eat."

"Sorry," Stella said, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

"What do you study?" Dana asked, hoping for a change of subject.

"Back home I study law, but here I'm taking a variety of classes. Women's History, Psychology, World Politics, and Music."

"Music?"

"Interestingly, that's the only one my father wouldn't have questioned. Yes, music. I play the piano."

"Are you any good?"

"That depends on the audience. So, Scully – may I call you Scully?"

"Why do you want to call me Scully?"

"It suits you."

Dana – Scully paused. She had never been called Scully. She was always Dana, nice, obedient Dana, studious, polite, sweet, little Dana.

"Okay."

"Excellent. So, Scully, why didn't you go to Florida with everyone you know, except me?"

"I have to study for finals," Scully said, sounding unconvinced.

"At least pretend to mean it."

Scully sighed. "I don't know. I wasn't actually invited to go with anyone," she admitted.

Stella raised her eyebrows, genuinely surprised. "Why not? What's wrong with you?"

Scully looked annoyed.

"I didn't mean it like that. I mean, you're beautiful, you're smart, you're at least reasonable to talk to and if I'm honest I find you rather compelling."

"You've known me for all of five minutes."

"Which is why I asked what's wrong with you. Maybe I should run."

Scully felt a giggle rise in her throat. A _giggle_.

"I'm boring," she said, but she was smiling.

"I disagree. Boring people don't sit with strangers in Wendy's."

"Do they sit alone in Wendy's?" Scully asked provocatively.

Stella smirked. "Perhaps, but if so, they don't intrude on strangers' conversations with themselves. You might want to work on that, by the way. Internal dialogue is internal for a reason. The reason is, if you say it out loud lesser people than myself might think you're crazy."

"I suppose I'm glad you're not lesser, then."

"As you should be. I could also be insane myself. I have been told I have a rather anomalous personality."

"In what way?"

"I'm cold. Heartless. And I say what I think, even if I know it will upset people."

"At least you're honest. Perhaps honesty is enough to make you an anomaly."

"Interesting point. These people, that didn't invite you to Florida – do you consider them your friends?"

"I'm not very good at making friends," Scully said, speaking as if she didn't care.

"Rubbish. You're making friends with me."

"Only because you're making friends with me."

"You didn't have to sit with me."

"Didn't I?"

Stella chuckled. "I do have a way of making people do what I want. But you're no pushover. You wouldn't have done it if you didn't want to."

Scully sighed. "I like to think so, generally. But I'm beginning to realise I do a lot of things I don't really want to do."

"So stop," Stella said, as if it was that simple.

"Would that I could."

"Why can't you?"

Scully eyed her burger hungrily; it trumped the need to answer properly.

"I don't know," she said, taking a large bite before Stella could push for a better response.

Stella didn't make a habit of questioning her own decisions. She knew she made good ones, and her instinct, having served her well for the past twenty-two years, deserved respect. But the pull in her gut towards Scully was something she would have found difficult to explain, had she tried. There were reasonable answers on the surface – Scully was smart, beautiful, funny... But there was something deeper than that. Something she'd seen in Scully's eyes when she first walked in, something... Something incredibly lonely and incredibly sad. Something Stella knew all too well. Something Stella knew all too well about hiding, too.

She allowed Scully to eat in silence, picking at her own food absent-mindedly. They left together without discussion, walking nowhere in particular. Stella paused outside a liquor store.

"How old are you?" she asked suddenly, realising she'd assumed Scully was her age with no actual proof.

"Twenty-two."

Again, her gut was accurate. She went inside, leaving Scully to smoke on the sidewalk.

"I thought you were going to be a doctor," she said, grinning as she left the store and lit her own cigarette.

"Everybody needs a vice."

Stella hummed, inhaling deeply. "But there are better vices, surely."

Scully caught something in her eyes that was dangerously suggestive. She blamed her imagination.

"Like boys?" she couldn't help asking.

"You cut to the chase, don't you? I wasn't thinking of boys, no," Stella said. She could see Scully's interest and indulged herself slightly, teasing her new friend.

"Then what were you thinking of?" Scully asked, the oddness of the situation making her bold.

Stella smiled a wicked smile. "Have a drink with me and I'll tell you."

"Done."

They walked. Stella seemed to have somewhere in mind; she walked with purpose now and Scully had to walk quickly to keep up, despite being in flats beside Stella's high-heeled boots.

Eventually, Stella slowed. They were much further along the river, almost out of town, and they were at the edge of a dam. Stella began to climb the concrete stairs leading to the top of it, looking back to see Scully's reaction. To her delight, Scully was entirely unfazed, climbing behind her and walking out into the middle. Stella sat and passed out beer.

"So, sitting comfortably?" she asked.

Scully lit another cigarette; Stella held out her hand for a drag. They both knew she had her own, but Scully shared anyway, enjoying the contact, the connection.

"Why don't you start?" Stella suggested.

"Me?" Scully asked.

"You. What are your vices?"

Scully was tempted to say she didn't have any, but she had the feeling this was a game, and she very much wanted to play.

"One for one?"

"Sounds fair to me."

Scully swigged her beer. "Drinking," she said.

"I take it we can't repeat?"

"Why don't we drink if we do it too?"

Stella chuckled, then produced a bottle of whisky from her liquor store bag.

"I was hoping you might say that."

She unscrewed it and took a swig.

"And now for my own," she said thoughtfully. "Casual sex."

She watched as Scully drank from her beer, but not the whisky.

"Ice cream," Scully said, easing back from the adult themes, more nervous than she'd like to be.

Stella drank from the whisky again.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to get me drunk."

"I'm not!"

"You were the one that suggested making this a drinking game."

"I didn't know you had whisky," Scully pointed out.

"Still, if I fall to my death, I'm holding you responsible."

They both looked down to the water far below them. It was eerily beautiful.

"You'll be dead, you won't be holding anyone anything."

"Touché. But I'm going to have to up the ante."

"I'm all ears."

"Masturbating."

The way she said it made it sound like the dirtiest word in the world, and even though Stella had been the one to broach the topic, Scully found herself blushing crimson as she reached for the whisky.

"Hey, there's no shame in it," Stella said, grinning. "Be proud you know how to get yourself off."

Scully drank more deeply than the game required, wanting to emulate the blonde's confidence. She could play dirty, too.

"Teasing people," she said, passing the bottle directly to Stella.

"You have to say things you do, too," Stella said, drinking.

"I've been known to tease people," Scully defended.

"Teasing people _sexually_ ," Stella said.

Scully reached for the bottle. Stella cackled. Scully realised she was nearly drunk enough for her favourite vice. She put the bottle between them, watching Stella's eyes.

"Being attracted to women," Scully said. "Especially powerful women."

Stella forced herself to move tantalisingly slowly, raising her hand only to pause, watching Scully's face, before picking up the whisky and drinking with relish. She licked her lips.

"Relieved?" she asked.

Scully laughed. "I'm glad my instincts haven't failed me, let's put it like that."

"Picking up strangers in strange places," Stella said. Scully didn't drink.

"Doing what I'm told because I can't think of anything better."

Stella didn't drink, but she lit another cigarette.

"That surprises me, you know. You're not shy, you seem even more confident than I expected."

"That's the whisky."

"Maybe. But still, there's no reason for you to do anything you don't want to do."

"I don't. Not really. I guess I'm just in a funk because I'm not on vacation."

"Vacation isn't a place, it's a state of mind," Stella said airily. "I can throw my beer over you if you like, so you'll feel more like you're at a party."

"Thanks, I'll pass. It's your turn."

"Ah, yes. My many discrepancies. Lying."

"What kind of lying?"

"That's not part of the game."

Scully sighed, and took a drink.

"Doesn't everybody lie?" she asked.

"Perhaps they do, but about different things."

"Fantasising about teachers."

Stella drank, then looked delighted at an idea. She looked right at Scully, gauging her reaction like a game of hot and cold. She was hiding it well, but Stella was sure there was more to this. She wanted to push it, but she hadn't done what she was beginning to think Scully had done. That would explain a lot. The friends, the not going on Spring break, the loneliness, now, because such a thing could never really work out. Stella grinned wickedly, fuelled by the thrill of finding something out, uncovering a secret. But a suspicion wasn't enough. She needed Scully to say it.

"Acting on my fantasies," she said.

Scully paused. "Any fantasies?"

Stella nodded. "Any."

"So, again, something everyone does," Scully said, aiming for scorn, steering away from something that was still fairly raw.

"Skinny dipping," Scully said.

Stella drank, but she wasn't ready to let go. She wanted the secret, she wanted the story.

"I want to play a different game. Truth or dare."

"We're too drunk for dares."

"Okay... Truth or drink."

"Because that's the logical solution to being too drunk."

"We're not that drunk."

"Fine, we can play. I'm running out of vices, anyway."

Stella was too determined to waste time.

"Ready?" she asked.

"As I'll ever be," Scully said, expecting something more about masturbating or attraction to women.

"Have you ever had sex with one of your professors?"

Scully realised, as she reached for the whisky, that this was just as damning as saying yes. She also realised that her heart had plummeted to her stomach, and that her eyes were prickling with something like betrayal. Why was Stella asking this? How did she know?

"A guy?" Stella asked, forgetting herself.

Scully still had the bottle in her hand, but she slammed it down between them with so much force that it broke.

"Why are you pushing this?" she demanded. "Know when to stop, Stella!"

With that, she stood, walking back along the dam. She heard Stella scramble to follow her, but resisted the temptation to turn around. She'd be fine. It was wide, she wasn't going to fall.

She managed not to turn until they were both back on solid ground, and she only did then because Stella called her.

"Scully, please."

She got the feeling Stella did not often beg.

"What?"

"I just wanted to know," Stella said. Scully turned away. She'd been expecting an apology, not a meaningless excuse.

"Whatever," she said. "It's late. I'm going home."

"You shouldn't walk alone," Stella said.

Scully groaned. She wasn't worried for herself, but Stella was beautiful, drunk, and in a foreign city.

"Do you live on campus?" she asked angrily.

"Yes," Stella said.

"Fine. Walk."

"I really don't see why you're so..."

"Shut up!"

Stella, finally, got the message, and they walked in silence. Scully wished there was more whisky. She lit a cigarette, fuming.

Stella walked, breathing in the cool air, drowning her tipsy remorse into sobering irritation. Scully was being overly sensitive, Stella hadn't said anything wrong. Scully had even brought up the topic. And Stella had exploited her disclosure- No, no, they had both been teasing each other, it was only a game. Scully had no right to be so stroppy about it. Or to waste all that whisky. Good whisky, too.

By the time they reached campus, Stella had worked herself up to be almost as angry as her companion, though to whom the anger was directed, Scully or herself, remained uncertain. They parted ways and Scully returned to her room, telling herself this was why she didn't like college students. They were all the same, immature and mean, even the ones who seemed nice at first.

Nice was a pathetic word for Stella Gibson, though. And the thing was, despite her anger, Scully was still glad she hadn't spent the evening alone. She'd had fun. More fun than she'd had in weeks, in months, maybe.

And now she'd never see Stella again.

Good, she thought bitterly. Good riddance.

Unfortunately, she couldn't even convince her head, let alone her other body parts, that she really felt that way.

Stella went to bed with a feeling she hardly recognised. As soon as she left Scully, her anger evaporated. Her eyes prickled, her cheeks flushed, and she felt... She felt _guilty_. She'd done wrong, and she knew it. She'd ignored the person, the friend in front of her, and she'd gone straight for the story. She'd hit Scully where she was most sensitive, and now she was facing the consequences of doing that to someone who knew how to stand up for themselves.

"You deserve to be alone," Stella muttered to herself in the darkness.

Luckily, perhaps, the wiser part of her brain didn't let her off that easily. She had to make it right. She knew she'd done wrong. And when other people did wrong, they did what they could to fix it. Stella had never had much of an interest in being like other people, but in this case, maybe she needed to use their methods.


End file.
